Crazier Than a Two Ring Circus
by Majjmo
Summary: A small circus comes to Silver City
1. Default Chapter

Title: Crazier Than a Two Ring Circus  
  
Author: J. Moen  
  
Feedback: Would be appreciated!  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: A small circus comes to Silver City.  
  
Disclaimer: Peacemakers and its characters are sole property of USA Networks in  
association with Michael R. Joyce Productions. This is a work of fan fiction.  
No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Before he stepped into Luci's saloon, Marshal Stone paused to glance at a poster for a circus coming to Silver City. Various acts were depicted: clowns, a dog and pony show, a contortionist, a one man bicycle band, fire jugglers, daring aerialists, and exotic animals. The sideshow attractions were listed across the bottom. He also noticed a bicycle leaning against the saloon storefront beyond the doors. No doubt its owner was inside escaping the afternoon heat. Although bicycles were fast becoming a popular American recreation, the roads in the area were too rough to make riding very enjoyable.  
  
Stone had an uneasy feeling the outlook for a peaceful week was quickly making a turn for the worst. A circus was never welcome news for him. People started acting foolishly when the circus came to town. Youngsters would try to mimic the acts and hurt themselves. Some people would adopt "holier-than-thou" attitudes concerning the circus folk, calling them freaks or, at the least, belittle them for abnormal lives. However, they would buy tickets anyway. He, himself, didn't know exactly how to relate to circus people. They had a different perspective on the world. Most times, though, they were more law abiding than ordinary citizens. Hopefully, he was worrying for nothing.  
  
A cold beer would definitely improve his mood. Walking up to the bar, he asked for his drink and looked around at the other men relaxing in the saloon. He noticed a skinny man wearing a bowler hat and goggles hanging around his neck, sitting at a table nearby. The man's trouser legs were wrapped close to the ankles with twine. He was sipping a sarsaparilla soda.  
  
"Must be the bicycle fellow," Stone thought, "Seems like an odd duck."  
  
He approached the man. "Welcome to Silver City. I'm Marshal Jared Stone," he began.  
  
The man interrupted, "Is there a law against having my bicycle on the sidewalk? I'll remove it immediately, sir."  
  
"Settle down, man. You haven't done anything illegal unless you have a guilty conscience and want to confess," Stone replied.  
  
"Oh no, no, no, no," the man responded, "I'm Henri Porter," and he offered his hand.  
  
Stone shook his hand and sat down. "You living in the area?"  
  
"I'm from Denver, Mr. Marshal, sir. I'm just out for a ride," Porter said. He took several, quick sips of his soda.  
  
"You rode your bicycle here from Denver!" Stone said incredulously, "What the hell for?"  
  
"I'm preparing to ride across the United States. I feel my greatest challenge will be the mountains." Porter's eyes kept darting to the marshal badge.  
  
"No doubt," Stone interjected.  
  
"So if I can't beat the mountains, I probably should give up. I don't want to make the trip to the coast if there's a chance my venture will fail," Porter continued.  
  
"Have you ever considered a motorbike? Detective Finch has one but he can't ride it in town.too dangerous. He might sell it to you," said Stone.  
  
"No, I intend to make it on my own power," Porter boasted  
  
"Well, OK, good luck to you." Stone swallowed the last of his beer. He rose, slightly touched the brim of his hat and left the saloon.  
  
Outside a large crowd had gathered in front of the train station. Stone spotted Katie down the street near his office. She beckoned him over. "The circus train is due any minute now. Mayor Smith said there'll be a parade through town on the way to the meadow. Most folks are planning a picnic supper to watch the big top go up," Katie exclaimed.  
  
Stone grumbled incomprehensibly.  
  
Katie sighed. Marshal Stone was a perpetual pessimist. "Maybe the clowns can cheer you up."  
  
"I'd prefer a slow afternoon of fishing. Have you seen Finch lately?"  
  
"In his laboratory. He had his nose in a book about genetics," answered Katie.  
  
Detective Finch was intently reading a textbook with his feet propped up on a lab table. He didn't even look up when Stone came in. He held up his index finger to signal I'll-be-with-you-in-a-minute, not wanting to lose his train of thought.  
  
"I want to discuss business. Reading can wait," Stone said.  
  
"Being informed on the latest scientific research is part of business," Finch said, perturbed at Stone's impatience, "but go ahead."  
  
"When I was in Cold Spring, Chipper said a Colorado dispatch came in concerning a fraudulent land scheme. The report had a description of the flimflam man and his typical methods used to trick unsuspecting folks into paying for nonexistent land. Do you have it? It's not at the office."  
  
"Did you look on your desk?" asked Finch, "There was a big pile of papers on it."  
  
"Well, of course, I checked my desk. And I was gone for a week so stuff piled up," Stone griped. "It's your job to see the paperwork is taken care of in my absence."  
  
"Paperwork is low priority compared to scientific inquiry," countered Finch.  
  
"Tell that to the people tricked out of their hard earned money," Stone said angrily, paused, and then continued. "I met a nervous stranger at Luci's who might fit the con man's description. Chip remembers something about the trousers that was unusual but he can't remember the exact detail."  
  
Music from a band drifted in the open windows. "The parade has started," said Finch. He put the book down and headed for the door.  
  
"Hold on, Finch!" shouted Stone.  
  
"I don't know where that dispatch is," Finch said over his shoulder.  
  
Stone followed Finch out. "Aw, Finch, not you too." Then it occurred to him. "Maybe I'm just too old to be excited by a circus anymore."  
  
Stone had already read the daily logbook entries for the past week upon his return to Silver City last night. There were only minor problems which were dealt with satisfactorily and didn't require follow up action. ("Shoulda been plenty of spare time to keep up with the paperwork," he groused.) He began sorting the correspondence into two piles: needs an answer and just information. He made another pile for the federal and state dispatches, and wanted bulletins. He didn't find the one about the bogus land scheme. He looked through all the desk drawers. He even looked under the desk and made a mental note to have Chip clean up the dust motes tomorrow.  
  
Stone stared at the piles of work. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. He had already avoided the boring task by lingering over supper. Actually, he wanted to nail the papers to a tree for target practice. The wanted posters would be more eye-catching with bullet holes in them.  
  
Two hours later, he was tackling the "needs an answer" pile, the one requiring the most concentration. Suddenly the office door burst open. Stone jerked back in his chair.  
  
"Marshal, there's been a murder at the circus!" Katie said, "Finch will meet us there." 


	2. 2

Chapter 2  
  
As the marshal and Katie approached the meadow, the big top flashed with light intermittently as though lightning was trapped inside. Finch was busy photographing the crime scene. The mayor and another gentleman stood outside the large tent door flaps.  
  
"Marshal, you need to control your man. He threw Mr. Miklas off his own property," Mayor Smith said.  
  
"Mr. Miklas, what is your connection to the circus?" asked Stone ignoring the mayor's outburst. Katie brushed by him as she went inside the tent.  
  
"Indeed! I am the owner and ringmaster of Miklas' Most Marvelous Circus," Micklas said expecting the marshal to be aware of his notoriety.  
  
"I'll want to question you and some of your people later." He started to follow Katie.  
  
"I am no murderer," sputtered Miklas, "I am insulted!"  
  
"Look here, Jared, he was with me all evening," chimed in the major.  
  
"I didn't say you were a suspect, Mr. Miklas. Just don't go away quite yet," Stone understood why Finch had banished them. He went inside.  
  
Finch was finished taking photos and was holding a lantern above the body to aid Katie in her preliminary investigation. The body was twisted at odd angles. Stone looked up and saw a dangling trapeze bar, only one end attached. "He died from a fall, then." The words were hardly out of his mouth when Finch shifted the light to illuminate the man's neck. It was slit from ear to ear. "Oh!" Stone cleared his throat and looked away.  
  
"I'd say the fall was a contributing cause of death. From the distance the blood radiated out from the body, I'd say he was still alive when his throat was slit," Katie said, "However, he was probably so incapacitated, he couldn't defend himself. Someone really wanted to make sure he was dead. He most likely would have died from the falling injuries anyway, although suffered more."  
  
"Who discovered the body?" Stone asked.  
  
"Marco Muzzi's brother, Filippo." Finch pointed to a man, head in his hands rocking back and forth, sitting on a hay bale a little distance away. "Marco was double checking the trapeze and rope rigging and when he didn't return in a reasonable amount of time, Filippo went looking for him."  
  
"Finch, you and I will talk to Mr. Muzzi and the owner tonight. Depending on what we find out, we'll interview other people first thing in the morning. Katie...Katie? Stone swung around because Katie had moved off, drawn by a low whinny from a miniature white pony tethered to a pole between the circus rings. The pony was hitched to a two wheeled cart with a small, ornate chest in the back.  
  
"Who left you here all this time?" Katie said soothingly to the animal. "If only you could talk, we'd know who killed Marco Muzzi."  
  
"Maybe not," said Finch sarcastically, "Suppose the pony is the murderer."  
  
Still peeved about the paperwork debacle, Stone couldn't resist. "Then why don't you analyze those road apples for incriminating evidence?"  
  
Ignoring the marshal's gibe, Finch went outside the doors and called out, "You there, come lend a hand." Slowly a couple of burly roustabouts came toward him. They frowned when he gave them the unpleasant task of loading Muzzi's body into Katie's mortuary wagon. Their frowns deepened when Finch continued with detailed instructions on where to walk without disturbing the crime area.  
  
Meanwhile, Stone told Katie, "I don't know if a complete autopsy is necessary. I'll leave it up to your own judgment."  
  
"I definitely have some things in mind I want to check out," Katie replied.  
  
"Such as?" Stone asked encouragingly.  
  
"You'll have my report in the morning," she said as she unhitched the pony. "First, I'm going to find out who owns this pony. She needs to be fed and watered. Finch better not gripe about me moving her; she's already contaminated the crime scene, so to speak," Katie finished with a quick smile.  
  
Stone crossed the tent, moving in front of Filippo Muzzi to block his view from the proceedings of moving the body. "I'm sorry about your brother," he said softly, taking out a pencil and small notebook from his pocket.  
  
"Thank you. Please call me Flip," he replied. "Why would anyone want to kill Marco?"  
  
"I'll find out. If you don't mind answering some questions right now, it would greatly help my investigation," Stone said. Flip nodded his head. "When was the last time you saw your brother alive?"  
  
"He came in to relieve me for supper. I had been working on the rigging for our act since the big top went up. It's very time consuming and crucial to ensure our safety and that of our audience. For that reason, Marco always double checks my work."  
  
"What time was that?" Stone poised the pencil over the paper.  
  
"I'm not sure. I don't wear a watch. Bart was lighting the lanterns just before Marco arrived," Flip said.  
  
Stone began to make a note but moved a few steps to the side. "Finch, you're blocking my light. Who's Bart?"  
  
Finch answered instead of Flip. "He's a roustabout. They are the circus security force after they've set up the tent. They'll be around all through the night. The mayor and Mr. Miklas are getting really antsy. We should interview them now."  
  
Stone looked at Flip Muzzi. The man looked very anguished. "I think that's best. More questions can wait until the morning, Mr. Muzzi. Bring in Mayor Smith first."  
  
Flip departed on the far side of the tent leading to the performers' tent quarters. Finch escorted Mayor Smith in.  
  
"Well, it's about time," Smith complained.  
  
"Sorry, Malcolm. I thought Mr. Muzzi deserved to go first. He's upset as I'm sure you would have taken into account. So Mr. Miklas was with you."  
  
"I invited him to my house for dinner and drinks. He has a fascinating life. Do you know." Smith cut his words off when he saw the irritated look on Stone's face. "He was at my place from five o'clock until a man showed up with the bad news a little bit after nine."  
  
"Thanks. Send Mr. Miklas in on your way out."  
  
The seriousness of the murder of one of his employees, and also a friend, had caused Miklas' mood to become somber. "I apologize for my behavior earlier, gentlemen. I was shocked that anyone would murder Marco. He was well liked by all. The ladies, in particular, adored him."  
  
"Did Marco have any other family besides his brother? Would someone benefit financially from his death?" asked Finch.  
  
"Alas, no other family. You don't get rich in the circus business unless you're P.T. Barnum," Miklas replied sadly. "Flip is now without a future.without Marco to catch him, there is no act."  
  
"Sorry to have kept you waiting so long, Mr. Miklas. Have your people available in the morning for questioning. I'll talk to the two men guarding the area tonight though," Stone said.  
  
"I'll send them in." He pulled out his pocket watch and added, "It's shift change anyway."  
  
Stone turned to Finch. "The crime scene has to be secured tonight. We can see more details in the daylight. Hunt down Chip and either you or he can relieve me. Meanwhile, I'll handle these two." Finch gathered his photography equipment as he left. The scowling roustabouts approached the marshal after extinguishing the all the lanterns except for a few in the immediate area.  
  
"For the record, what are your names?" Stone asked.  
  
"I'm Tiny and he's Bart," said the larger man.  
  
"I mean your actual, full names."  
  
"I'm Tiny and he's Bar-thol-o-mew," Tiny said slowly.  
  
Stone decided just to move on. "Who was in the tent when Filippo Muzzi was working on the trapeze rigging?"  
  
"Bart and me was helping him run the ropes," said Tiny.  
  
"A clown brought the pony in and left," Bart finally spoke.  
  
A hard look from Tiny made Bart nervously shuffle his feet.  
  
"I should have questioned them separately," Stone thought, "But this is a long enough night as it is."  
  
"Once the ropes was up, Flip stayed up there for adjustments and such," Tiny said, reasserting his control of the conversation.  
  
"No one else was in the tent during that time," Stone stated for confirmation.  
  
Tiny raised his voice. "Wasn't you listening?" Then he remarked to Bart, "All the smart police must have found jobs in the city."  
  
Stone was in no mood for that crap. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Tiny's knee. "From now on, Bart answers the questions or your new nickname is Peg Leg."  
  
Tiny began to sweat a bit. "Hey, you can't do that."  
  
"Wanna find out?" Stone challenged. Tiny just chewed on his lip.  
  
"Do you know when Marco came to the tent to check Flip's work?" asked Stone irritably.  
  
"Nope," squeaked Bart.  
  
Did anyone go in or out after Flip left?"  
  
"Nope," Bart repeated.  
  
"Do you make rounds periodically?  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Are there guards on the other side of the big top?"  
  
"Nope"  
  
Suddenly from behind Stone. "Don't worry, Marshal, I've got the other one covered."  
  
"It's all right, Chip! I'm trying out a special clown interrogation method," Stone said lowering his gun and reholstering it. Then he addressed the roustabouts. "That's all for now."  
  
"Clowns sure look different when they're not in costume," Chip observed.  
  
Stone laughed. "When's Detective Finch coming to relieve you?"  
  
"Two o'clock," replied Chip. "He was eager to develop the photographs right away."  
  
"Tell him I'll be back at four. Later, Chipper." Stone walked out of the tent.  
  
Chip settled himself on a hay bale. He hadn't expected to work tonight or he would have cut back on the beer. He was feeling drowsy away from the action at the saloon. The more he willed himself to be awake, the lower his head sank towards his chest. He began to snore softly.  
  
Across the tent deep in the shadows, the lid of the small chest in the back of the pony cart creaked open. A skinny hand carefully grasped the lid's edge. The rest of the arm stretched out slowly until the top was fully open. 


	3. 3

Chapter 3  
  
Barely able to suppress a moan, the contortionist, a.k.a. Rubber Man, unfolded his body as he jerkily climbed out of the chest. Even one as limber as him suffered muscle cramps when motionless for so many hours. Unable to control his movement effectively, he tumbled out on the ground. He peered across the ring through the darkness but the man lit by feeble lantern light remained asleep. Stumbling and in lingering agony from his ordeal, Rubber Man exited the tent.  
  
Punctual as usual, Detective Finch relieved Chip at two in the morning. Chip had awoken slightly beforehand to answer the call of nature. Although the detective suspected Chip had been sleeping, he didn't mention it. He opened his genetics book and was absorbed in it until Stone arrived carrying a steaming coffee pot and mugs.  
  
"Take a look at these pictures," Finch said immediately.  
  
"Help yourself to some coffee," Stone said, pouring coffee, then pulling out his glasses to peruse the crime scene photos Finch had spread out on a bench.  
  
"Notice anything about this one?" Finch pointed to the photo of Marco Muzzi's body askew on the ground.  
  
"No," Stone admitted.  
  
"I have a theory on what happened but I want to hold off until Katie has the autopsy results," Finch said.  
  
"Sunrise isn't until six-thirty," Stone said. "Get a couple hours sleep."  
  
"Not necessary. Before taking my watch, I used a technique I learned from a Hindu monk. You enter a meditative trance for fifteen minutes and feel refreshed as though you slept deeply throughout the night," Finch explained.  
  
"Well, in that case, you can help me meditate some answers in reply to these letters from last week," Stone said.  
  
Finch forced a yawn. "Maybe some sleep couldn't hurt."  
  
"That figures!" Stone said under his breath.  
  
Katie and Finch came into the big top at sunrise. Katie brought a pot of fresh coffee and some biscuits, much to Stone's relief. He had been listening to the circus waking up and smelling breakfast cooking.  
  
"Tell Marshal Stone about the autopsy," Finch said as Stone took advantage of the food and drink. "It confirms my theory."  
  
"I could find no broken bones whatsoever. No bruising either. When I opened him up, there was no evidence of internal bleeding. At least one of those symptoms should have been present resulting from a fall from that height," Katie said.  
  
"The manner in which Marco's limbs were arranged was physically impossible to not incur some breakage due to a fall of that magnitude. Therefore.." Finch paused.  
  
"Therefore?" Stone echoed.  
  
"Therefore, someone placed him in that position trying to make us think he fell initially," Finch finished. They all looked up at the dangling trapeze bar.  
  
"I suppose one of us should climb up and find out if some fingerprints besides the Muzzi brothers' are on that bar. Then maybe we'll know who is trying to lead us astray," Stone said but made no move, glancing sideways at Finch.  
  
Finch rolled his eyes. "I'll go up."  
  
Finch grabbed a thick rope hanging near the trapeze and shinnied up. He swung back and forth until he was able to grab the unconnected trapeze rope. "Clean edge except where it was forcefully pulled apart," he observed, "Someone definitely cut the rope." He used his knife to cut the remaining side, being careful to only touch the bar where it was wrapped for better grip. Then he slowly descended.  
  
While Finch was dusting the exposed metal of the bar for fingerprints, Stone was surveying the area as daylight brightened the tent interior. He noticed a single track coming from the performers' entrance. He followed the narrow rut until he reached where Muzzi's body had lain.  
  
"What made this?" he wondered.  
  
"A bicycle?" suggested Katie.  
  
She walked along the track leading back to the far side of the tent and out of the door beyond the left ring. "The track stops outside where the grass begins," she observed, "Something doesn't look right for a bicycle track though."  
  
"Yeah, why ride a bicycle in here to commit a murder," said Stone. Even as he uttered the statement, he pictured the unusual man in Luci's yesterday. "It would be a strange coincidence, if that fellow was involved in both land fraud and murder," he thought, "Nobody's gonna believe that ridiculous story about riding across the U.S."  
  
"I got it," Katie exclaimed. "A bicycle track wouldn't be straight on the curve. The front tire would turn sharply but the back wheel would take a bit wider radius, leaving close double tracks, not a solid single one like this." She felt the ground about three feet away but parallel to the track. She thought she could trace a faint indentation of another track running alongside the apparent one. Someone erased the original right track. Then she remembered the pony and cart. The track was actually from a cart wheel.  
  
Katie and Stone walked to the cart. They both noticed that the small, ornate chest was open and empty. "Someone snuck in here and removed something, maybe the murder weapon. Damn it!" Stone said, "Why didn't we check it before now."  
  
"Because it was locked," Finch said coming up to them. "However, now I can see it was a trick lock, the kind used for magic acts that can be opened from the inside. Good news though! I found fingerprints on the trapeze bar. I'll have to go to my lab to scrutinize them, but first.," He began to dust the chest surfaces.  
  
"Got any ideas where to look for the knife?" asked Stone.  
  
"Nothing comes to mind right away. If the murderer is smart, we'll never find it," replied Finch.  
  
"Then we'll have to rely on finding a motive and hope that leads to a confession," Stone speculated. "While you work on the fingerprints at the lab, Katie and I will poke around here some more"  
  
On his way out, Finch passed Flip Muzzi heading in. The forlorn man approached the marshal and asked quietly, "Can I have Marco's body yet? I want to make arrangements to take him to Indiana and bury him in consecrated ground next to his wife."  
  
"Of course. Miss Owen will be glad to help you," said Stone. "Are you up for answering some questions now?"  
  
Flip agreed and Stone led him over to a nearby bench. Katie continued walking the circus arena in an overlapping pattern.  
  
"Have you been able to think of who might have ill feelings toward your brother?"  
  
Flip attempted to answer but started crying. Stone looked away to give him some privacy. He watched Katie run her hands between the hay bales set up for audience seating, searching for the knife. He turned back to Flip as the sobbing subsided. "Sorry, I ..don't," Flip said. Stone waited for him to continue. "We're all one big family at the circus."  
  
"Family members still have disagreements," Stone prompted.  
  
"But they don't kill each other." Flip was in the verge of losing control again.  
  
"What about people outside the circus?" Stone asked.  
  
"No, Marco was a good man. His only fault was drinking too much to numb the pain of Sybil's death. He would stay out all night even when he needed to rest for a performance. Liquor was his personal demon but that wouldn't cause others to hate him, to want him dead!" Flip sounded angry now.  
  
Stone closed his notebook. "I'll keep you informed of any progress in the case." He motioned to Katie. "Please excuse us for a moment, Mr. Muzzi."  
  
He pulled Katie off to the side. "Telegraph Indiana once you know the town and request any information relating to Marco's marriage and wife's death," he said quietly.  
  
"Got it," Katie whispered. Then, she spoke to Flip. "If you will accompany me to the funeral parlor, Mr. Muzzi, I'll be able to help you there."  
  
After they left, Stone poured another mug of coffee. "It was hard to find a suspect if everyone seems to like the victim," he pondered. "Maybe a clue will turn up in the interviews of the circus performers. It seems the first inclination is to only speak well of the deceased. Perhaps there's someone willing to talk without consideration of social correctness. The murderer definitely had a reason to hate Muzzi."  
  
The marshal, lost in thought, didn't notice Finch's return. He was startled when Finch said, "I got two perfect prints from the trapeze bar. Unfortunately no luck on the chest. I spoke to the circus owner on my way to the lab. He gave me a list of his people. He also drew a diagram of the individual tent layout so we'll know who's where."  
  
"Very helpful," Stone remarked.  
  
"After my initial dealings with him, it's a complete change of face," Finch said. "I suspect he knows something critical to our case. We should interview him again."  
  
Stone disagreed. "Let's wait until we've gathered some information from the circus folk. Right now, he's concentrating on protecting his business and has no reason to stick his neck out. He's not worried about us coming after him because he has an alibi."  
  
"Speak of the devil," they both thought when Mr. Miklas came hurrying in. "Are you finished in here? We still have some work to complete before the matinee."  
  
"Go ahead. We're done," Stone informed Miklas. "Let's get started on the interviews, Finch."  
  
They walked out the tent through the show entrance. "These people were most likely to have seen anyone going to or coming from the big top." He pointed to the closest three tents. "The so called circus security is a joke."  
  
Just then, Katie came up. "That was fast," Stone said.  
  
"I sent Mr. Muzzi back to get clothes for the burial. I telegraphed Peru, Indiana, on the way here. I didn't want to miss the interviews," Katie explained.  
  
"Aw.well, Katie," Stone was searching for the right words.  
  
"You're not going to leave me out of this. I'm part of the team," Katie said forcefully.  
  
"The people could, well..make..some shocking revelations," Stone looked down, "It might be a crime of passion."  
  
"More shocking than a dead body?" Finch interjected. Katie shot him an appreciative glance.  
  
"I just don't want you to be embarrassed, Katie," Stone replied in exasperation.  
  
"Don't worry about me," Katie said with confidence.  
  
He gave in. "OK, ladies first, which tent do you want?"  
  
She started toward the closest one. Finch indicated he'd take the next tent. As Stone approached the last tent, he noticed a small sign attached to the pole. Adorned with gaily painted flowers, it read "The Bearded Lady's Home Sweet Home".  
  
The marshal, who rode valiantly in the cavalry during the war and survived numerous showdowns with notorious outlaws, felt absolutely queasy having to be in close proximity of a bearded lady. 


	4. 4

Chapter 4  
  
Finch knocked, after a fashion, on the tent flap. "Hello! Anyone home?" He was greeted by a loud chorus of barking. He frowned. "It's so tedious to pick dog hair off wool pants," he said to himself.  
  
The tent flap was pulled back. A tall man with a pale complexion introduced himself. "I'm Julian Griswell, the animal trainer. Everett Miklas said to expect you."  
  
"I'm Detective Larimer Finch," he said trying to avoid stepping on numerous small dogs sniffing him as he made his way over to the chair Griswell motioned toward. At the back of the tent, a woman was quietly sniffling and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Across from him, the miniature pony was sitting with her hind quarters squeezed into a rocking chair. One dog began romancing his leg while he unobtrusively tried to push it away.  
  
"You'll have to forgive my wife. She's in the family way and is easily upset by the recent tragic event." Griswell thumped the pony on the noggin and she climbed up on the bed next to Mrs. Griswell. The animal trainer sat down in the rocking chair and immediately several dogs jumped in his lap.  
  
Finch thought, "This is the interview from hell!" However, he put on a professional smile and asked, "How well did you know Marco Muzzi?" Mrs. Griswell let out a wail.  
  
"Dear, why don't you make sure the tigers are fed? We wouldn't want them to be hungry and eat me during the show, now would we?"  
  
Mrs. Griswell left the tent. Mr. Griswell balefully turned his attention back to the detective.  
  
"How well did you know Marco Muzzi?" Finch repeated.  
  
"We've known him about five years."  
  
"Did you consider yourselves friends?"  
  
"We winter camped together in Indiana so we saw each other year round," Griswell answered, "I think we were very close."  
  
"Do you know why anyone would murder him?"  
  
"No. He was always very good at amusing people. He had a way about him," Griswell stated somewhat distastefully.  
  
"So no one disliked him enough to kill him?" Finch restated. A dog pulled out a ladies silk undergarment from under a blanket. Another dog grabbed on and a tug of war ensued. There was no reaction from Griswell.  
  
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Simultaneously, Stone was going through his own version of hell. "I'd like to ask you a few questions concerning Marco Muzzi's murder," Stone said opening his notebook and preparing to write.  
  
"Sure, hon, go ahead," Penelope, the bearded lady, said as she arranged her skirt a little higher on her extremely hairy leg. Stone immediately stared at his notebook although nothing was written on the open page yet.  
  
"Uh.OK then," he cleared his throat, "Did you know Mr. Muzzi very well?"  
  
"As well as any of the performers. We're all one big happy family. Speaking of families, are you married, Marshal?" Penelope pursed her lips together making her long whiskers wiggle.  
  
"I'll ask the questions here if you don't mind," Stone said gruffly. "Do you know of anyone who had a grudge against him, maybe wanting him dead or out of the way?"  
  
"Marco liked to gamble and carouse, if you know what I mean," she replied, accompanying her last remark with a wink. "Maybe he rubbed someone the wrong way."  
  
The expression on Penelope's face told Stone that she wouldn't mind rubbing up against him. He stood and moved to the door of the tent, seemingly to need better light for writing.  
  
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In the first tent, Katie was getting nowhere. The Rubber Man was more interested in giving her a preview of his show instead of providing answers. He was in the process of demonstrating how he could cross both legs over his shoulders behind his neck.  
  
"How long have you known Marco Muzzi?" she insisted.  
  
"Do I look like a human pretzel?" Rubber Man asked.  
  
"Answer my question," Katie said.  
  
"Long enough," Rubber Man replied evasively, "but Sybil liked me best. She called me her little pretzel."  
  
"Too much personal information," Katie thought at first. However, when discussing the burial arrangements, Flip Muzzi mentioned that Marco's wife was named Sybil. She decided to pursue that angle. "Doesn't your wife travel with you?" she asked innocently.  
  
"I'm not married," Rubber Man said with a jerk of his body, untangling his legs.  
  
"Sorry, my mistake," apologized Katie.  
  
Rubber Man came close to her. Katie felt a little twinge of trepidation. She could smell from his breath he'd been drinking, but he picked up a bottomless water bucket from the table next to her. He proceeded to wiggle into it until it was positioned firmly around his hips.  
  
"Do you know of anyone who disliked him?"  
  
The contortionist doubled over plunging his arms down through the bucket, preparing to follow with his shoulders and head. "He didn't care whose woman he dallied with," he said. He was now doubled over with his chest and thighs squeezed together by the encircling bucket. His butt was sticking up the highest. Katie fought not to giggle.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
A dog was eyeing Finch's lap. Finch tried to stare him down. The dog took it as an invitation to jump up. "Coco doesn't bite," Griswell said in a monotone, "He'll sit on your shoulder." Finch gently put Coco on the floor. "No thanks." he said while thinking, "I'd kick the dog across the tent but then 'Mr. Happy' would sic the big cats on me."  
  
"Where were you from dusk to about nine last night?" Finch asked.  
  
"Settling down my animals. The train ride is stressful for them," Griswell stated.  
  
"Did anyone see you during that time?"  
  
"My wife was assisting me. A local man brought the meat I'd ordered." Griswell stared at Finch, daring the detective to contradict him.  
  
Finch continued on. "Who was the local man?"  
  
"I didn't care about his name, only the meat."  
  
"I need the name to verify your statement," Finch said.  
  
"Maybe my wife knows."  
  
"I certainly intend to ask her." Finch looked to see any reaction from Griswell. The man kept a poker face. "When did you take the pony and cart to the big top?"  
  
"I didn't." Griswell's left eye twitched a bit.  
  
"Who, then?" asked Finch.  
  
"Snowball is trained to perform in the ring. She must have been confused after the train ride." Griswell's eye twitched again.  
  
"She hitched herself to the cart and went there on her own?" asked Finch in a mocking tone.  
  
"Of course not. Other performers use her to haul trunks, furnishings and household items after their quarters are set up. She must have wandered off."  
  
"Any particular performers?" Finch asked.  
  
"Most all of them," replied Griswell. "I'm a very generous man."  
  
"Will Mrs. Griswell be coming back soon?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Please tell her that I want to speak to her," Finch said as he stood up to leave.  
  
Griswell remained where he was but the dogs jumped down to excitedly accompany Finch to the door. He breathed some lungfuls of fresh air outside before going to find Katie and the marshal. Inside the tent, Mr. Griswell took several gulps from a bottle of Gude's Pepto-Mangan elixir, then upended the bottle and drank the rest.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
"Umm.can you account for your whereabouts last night?" Stone asked.  
  
"I was pampering myself with a long, hot bath," Penelope whispered huskily.  
  
"Was there anyone, I mean can anyone verify.?" Stone seemed to be examining his pencil quite closely, "uh, provide an alibi for you?" he finally finished.  
  
"Just what kind of a woman do you take me for. I most certainly bathe alone!" she answered indignantly. "For now," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"Don't leave town," Stone said lamely as he spun around hitting the pole as he barged out of the tent. He almost collided with Finch.  
  
"Marshal, who did you interview?" Stone looked around as though he wasn't paying attention. He was clearly uncomfortable and Finch wasn't going to miss a chance to goad him. "Well?"  
  
"The bearded lady," Stone mumbled. "She didn't see anything."  
  
"Does she have an alibi? Finch struggled to keep from grinning.  
  
"Pretty much." Stone nervously cleared his throat. "She was taking a bath."  
  
"It doesn't sound like you had a very professional conversation," said Finch.  
  
"Drop it, Finch," Stone growled.  
  
"I still need to interview Mrs.Griswell, the animal trainer's wife," Finch said back on a serious track. "Mr. Griswell is connected to the murder. I'd bet money on it."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Rubber Man extricated himself from the bucket by pulling it downward. He removed his feet and ended up in a hand stand when the bucket hit the ground. "I sing the song, 'There's a Hole in My Bucket', while I perform my amazing feat," he bragged.  
  
"Can you give an accounting for yourself last evening?" Katie pressed on.  
  
"I was at the saloon. Ask the blonde gal. I'm sure she'll remember my limberness," he leered.  
  
Katie blushed. She quickly looked about the tent, noticing a small chest similar to the one in the cart under the table. "Do you use the chest in your act?"  
  
"Come to the show this afternoon and you'll see. I don't want to give away all my secrets, even to a beautiful woman such as you. Care to join me in a drink?" He smiled.  
  
"No thanks," she refused. "I think you've had enough for the both of us."  
  
"Too bad you're a teetotaler. The booze lubricates me for my work and other activities, you know," he hinted suggestively.  
  
"I have to go now," Katie said. "See you at the show." She tried to stroll out nonchalantly. She was relieved to see Stone and Finch waiting for her although she'd never admit it. At the same time, the interview had given her a little rush. "Katie Owen, Detective Extraordinaire!" she thought.  
  
"I think the chest from the pony cart belongs to the Rubber Man. His girlfriend and Marco's wife were both called Sybil. What if he hated Marco Muzzi because Marco stole his girlfriend and married her?" she conjectured eagerly. "Let's arrest him!"  
  
"Not so fast," said Stone. "All we have is circumstantial evidence. The chest was there but no one saw the Rubber Man."  
  
"There were two different fingerprints on the trapeze bar, Marco's and an unidentified person's. That could be the Rubber Man," Finch pointed out. "If we can place him at the scene, then we can put pressure on him to tell the rest of the story. On the other hand, I think creepy Griswell isn't telling the whole truth as well. The print could also be his."  
  
"Flip was up there too. What about his fingerprint being on the bar?" asked Stone.  
  
"No, I've already ruled him out with no match since he was good enough to consent to give me his prints," Finch replied.  
  
"The Rubber Man has invited me to watch his act for the matinee show. There'll be an opportunity to lift a print from one of his props while he's performing," Katie said.  
  
The trio split up again to finish the interviews. Nobody had seen much. After the initial scurrying around to set up camp, the circus people spent the evening resting in their tents from the long train trip into Silver City. One of the clowns mentioned he thought he saw a woman near the big top about the time the Muzzi brothers were working on their equipment. The roustabout helping with the exotic animals said both Mr and Mrs Griswell were in the area but he wasn't sure of the time. He left periodically to handle other performers' requests for assistance. Everyone did agree that Marco Muzzi had a reputation as a "ladies man". After conferring with each other, Stone, Finch and Katie headed back to town  
  
In the time remaining before the show, Katie finished preparing Marco's body for shipment. Stone went to the telegraph office to check on information from Indiana. He stopped by the office briefly to find out if Chip needed any help. Some townspeople waylaid him to complain about the lack of the aerialist act at the circus, wanting a reduction in the ticket price. When Stone reminded them that a man had died, they hardly seemed contrite. Finch asked Luci's girls if the Rubber Man had been at the saloon. One of them said that he went upstairs with her around eight o'clock but didn't stay long. When questioned further about his demeanor, she giggled and said sure he acted strangely. She thought that was normal for a circus performer. Afterwards, Finch tried in vain to find a useable fingerprint from the smudged collection off the chest.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" the ringmaster loudly intoned, starting the circus matinee performance. Katie was outside the entrance among the circus acts waiting in line for the big top grand parade. Stone was keeping a protective watch a little distance away. Katie was pretending to be interested in the Rubber Man in order to have access to his things. He hadn't liked the idea but he was overruled by Finch and Katie. At least, he didn't have to worry about the bearded lady hitting on him; she was busy in the sideshow tent.  
  
Stone turned his attention back to the circus action. After the parade, the animal trainer began the dog and pony show. In the other ring, the fire jugglers were amazing people. Some roustabouts were standing with water pails at the ready. Fire in the big top could be a major disaster. Tiny and Bart were patrolling with shovels near the pony to scoop up any mess right away. "Ideal job for those two," he thought.  
  
Katie came to stand with Stone and whispered, "He told me to go away. I didn't want to make him suspicious." They moved beside the front row of spectators to have a wider view of the events. When the dogs and pony left the ring, the clowns ran in. One paused to harass Finch by trying to dance a jig with him. Finch wouldn't cooperate so the clown headed in the marshal and Katie's direction. Stone pointed to his badge and the clown made an exaggerated motion of being handcuffed. The crowd laughed loudly. Finch casually left the tent unnoticed.  
  
When the clowns' entertainment was finished, Mr. Miklas announced the Rubber Man. The pony galloped into the ring with the chest in the cart. A great silence filled the big top and then a drum roll began. Nothing happened after several minutes. The ringmaster went to the chest and tapped it. He appeared upset. Finally, he jerked the lid open. The chest was empty. He stomped over to Marshal Stone. "He's supposed to be in there. The Rubber Man has disappeared!" 


	5. 5

Chapter 5  
  
Stone and Katie rushed outside. Stone pushed the milling performers out of the way as he searched. Katie followed closely in his wake.  
  
"Finch, where in the hell are you!" he bellowed.  
  
A moan came from the second row of the circus bivouac. Finch was trying to get up off the ground. He covered the back of his head with one hand. Blood was oozing out from between his fingers. Katie knelt beside him. "Don't get up," she said.  
  
"Talk instead," said Stone brusquely.  
  
Katie drilled him with a dirty look. His tone changed as he said, "If you feel up to it, of course."  
  
"Someone hit me with that whiskey bottle," he said groggily. "On the bright side, I can get fingerprints off it."  
  
"It must have been the Rubber Man. Doesn't this guy have a regular name? I feel stupid always calling him the Rubber Man," Stone griped. He looked hopefully at Katie.  
  
"He introduced himself as the Rubber Man. I didn't think to ask him his actual name," she sheepishly admitted.  
  
"No problem. You did pretty well for a rookie detective." Stone smiled at her.  
  
Finch looked at his holster. "Oh no..where's my gun!"  
  
"Aw, Finch," Stone said in frustration.  
  
"You try protecting your gun the next time you're unconscious," Finch retorted.  
  
"OK fine." The marshal apologized somewhat.  
  
"This wound will need stitches," Katie decided.  
  
A man stumbled up to the threesome. He was Lenihan, the One Man Bicycle Band performer, and he had a bloody nose. "The Rubber Man stole my bicycle."  
  
Stone exclaimed disbelievingly, "He's making a getaway on a damn bicycle!"  
  
"He rode off toward town," Lenihan supplied.  
  
"Katie, patch up Finch. I'm going after the suspect." Stone headed to town at a slow jog. He saw no sign of the Rubber Man. By the time he covered the quarter mile back to his office, he was quite winded. Silver City was virtually deserted; most businesses were closed with signs, "Gone to the circus".  
  
"Chipper, get my horse and meet me at the train platform," he forced out in between labored breaths. "Ask Isaac if anyone rented or stole a horse within the last half hour."  
  
The train was the most expedient transportation out of town but also the most obvious and with little chance of concealment. The stagecoach had already passed through town hours ago. Stone questioned the few people gathered for the next scheduled train arrival. No one saw the contortionist. Chip arrived with the marshal's horse. "No horses rented or missing from Isaac's livery," he reported.  
  
"Keep an eagle eye on the train platform. Be ready with your gun. The suspect is armed," Stone briefed him.  
  
"What does the suspect look like?" Chip asked.  
  
Stone saw an illustrated circus poster tacked to the train station wall. "That guy." He pointed to the Rubber Man. "I'm going to check the roads around town. He couldn't have gone far on a bicycle."  
  
The marshal skirted the town looking for the errant performer. In the distance, he heard a faint whistle as the train chugged toward Silver City. Then he saw the bicycle down a ravine, broken and bent. He urged his horse to a gallop heading down the adjacent road. When he covered enough distance to be satisfied the fugitive had not gotten that far, he rode at breakneck speed back to town.  
  
Stone quickly dismounted at the train station. He directed Chip to cover the tracks on the opposite side of the platform. The train pulled in but the suspect was not among the passengers waiting to board. He glanced between the cars at Chip who shook his head. Stone knew in his gut the Rubber Man was nearby.  
  
He noticed the porter beginning to load several crates. "Hold it," he ordered. One had an Indiana delivery address on it. "Back off," he said to the porter who looked confused but obeyed.  
  
"Come out slowly and let me see your hands." Stone aimed his peacemaker at the crate.  
  
Two boys were playing tag close by. They stopped running when Stone pulled out his gun.  
  
"Why is Marshal Stone talking to a box?" asked the younger boy. "How come he's pointing a gun at it?"  
  
"Seems kind of silly," replied his older brother.  
  
The marshal overheard their conversation. "Skedaddle, you two."  
  
Thankfully, Stone spotted Chip and waved him over. "Clear this area of people now." When Chip had backed up the small group that had formed, he repeated in a loud voice, "Come out or I'm putting a bullet smack through the crate."  
  
A muffled noise came from the crate. The lid popped open a few inches. "Don't shoot!" The bystanders gasped "Ooh!"  
  
"Put your hands out where I can see them and then stand up slowly," Stone ordered. The Rubber Man did exactly as instructed. "Where's the gun?"  
  
"In the crate, at my feet," the contortionist replied in a shaky voice.  
  
"Step out of the crate and move away." Stone kept his gun on the Rubber Man while he visually verified the gun's whereabouts. Satisfied, he gave him a none too gentle push across the street. "Let's go to the jail. Chipper, grab the gun." Chip started to pick up the gun, then stopped and dug out a handkerchief which he wrapped around it first.  
  
"But I didn't do it. I'm innocent," the Rubber Man pleaded.  
  
"So you're saying a guilty man would have tried to board the train along with the rest of the passengers," the marshal said caustically.  
  
As Chip locked the culprit in the jail cell, Marshal Stone flipped open the daily log book. "For the record, what's your full name?"  
  
"Melvin Worley, but I didn't kill Marco," he replied mournfully. "Sure, I wanted him dead but somebody beat me to it."  
  
"Maybe, Worley, but you did assault a peace officer," Stone said and annotated the log.  
  
"Uh.Marshal, do you think he can slip between the bars?" Chip asked.  
  
"Good call, son," Stone patted him on the back, "Get the handcuffs."  
  
Finch and Katie came into the office while Chip was ensuring Worley would remain in custody. Finch was pale and unsteady on his feet. Katie hovered close by. "He has a concussion. Dr. Gates advised him to rest."  
  
Finch shrugged saying, "The fingerprints on the trapeze and the bottle match."  
  
"Let's discuss the case on the back porch," Stone said after noticing Worley was intently eavesdropping. Out on the porch, Stone motioned to the comfy wing back chair, "Sit there, Detective." Finch gladly obliged.  
  
"It certainly would be beneficial to have the murder weapon," Finch said.  
  
"I get the idea you're not sure Worley did it. Let's review the evidence. We have the prints and Worley's unique ability to hide in the small chest that was at the murder scene." Stone ticked off each item on his fingers.  
  
"Worley hated Muzzi because he stole his girlfriend and married her so that's motive," Katie continued.  
  
Chip added, "He knocked Detective Finch out and tried to run because he knows he's guilty."  
  
"A flimsy alibi. Although he was at the saloon last night, there was plenty of time for him to murder Muzzi beforehand," the marshal finished.  
  
"So what does he have in his favor," said Finch playing the devil's advocate. "No one ever saw him in the big top. No murder weapon so no fingerprints as direct evidence. It seems a lot of people didn't appreciate his womanizing so the motive seems weak."  
  
"Just whose side are you on, Finch?" asked Stone becoming a little agitated  
  
"Ours, of course. I don't want a defense lawyer picking apart our case. If Worley's more forthcoming about his involvement, we might have a clearer idea of what really happened," Finch explained.  
  
Katie and Chip nodded in agreement. Stone, though skeptical, could find little fault in Finch's reasoning. They filed back into the marshal's office.  
  
"Time to answer some questions. It's in your best interest to answer truthfully. Things will go easier on you if you do," Stone said sternly. Finch subconsciously put his hand up to his head with a grimace. Worley lost some of his defiance.  
  
"Do you admit you were in the chest on the pony cart when Marco Muzzi was checking the rigging?" Worley didn't answer for several moments. The marshal was about to ask again when Worley reluctantly spoke after carefully considering his options.  
  
"Yes, I asked a clown to take the pony and cart into the tent so I could supposedly practice a new aspect of my act. I was able to sneak into the chest; he didn't know I was in there."  
  
"Then what happened?" Stone urged.  
  
"Shortly after the pony was in place, I heard two men talking briefly. Much later, a woman came in."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I couldn't look. I might be seen. I heard a female speaking but not very clearly. They spoke in low tones," Worley said.  
  
"Like lovers do?" asked Finch.  
  
Worley nodded. "As the voices moved away, I decided to chance a peek. They went behind the hay bales and well." He was staring at Katie hoping to see her blush again. Stone casually shifted to block his view.  
  
"And then?" prodded Stone.  
  
"So I climbed up and cut the trapeze rope just enough to weaken it but not be noticeable," Worley paused, "I thought."  
  
"Couldn't you see the woman's face from up there?" wondered Chip.  
  
"I did have a bird's eye view but they were very busy, you know," Worley smirked.  
  
"Jiminy Cricket, move on!" Stone growled.  
  
"Sorry, it sticks in my mind. Even though their faces were blocked by a bale, well..with a pregnant woman, how disgusting." Worley made a face.  
  
"Mrs. Griswell!" Stone, Finch and Katie exclaimed simultaneously. 


	6. 6

Chapter 6  
  
"She's not the only pregnant woman among us," said Worley. "There's George's wife and the bearded lady."  
  
Stone couldn't suppress a shudder.  
  
"Anyway, I got back in the chest. After a long time, I heard Marco swear loudly so maybe he found the cut rope. Someone else came in because there was angry shouting. Then a horrible sound, then silence."  
  
"What was the shouting about?" asked Finch.  
  
"Stay away from my wife," Worley reenacted. He changed his voice. "She doesn't love you." Then back to his original timbre, "I'll kill you!"  
  
"Did you recognize the killer's voice?" asked the marshal.  
  
"No. First, I thought he left right away but I kept hearing some scratching sound," Worley answered.  
  
"He was erasing one of the cart tracks to mislead us," explained Katie.  
  
Worley continued. "Inside the chest was so warm and since I enjoyed some liquid courage before seeking my revenge, I fell asleep. When I woke up and looked out, it was dark. I saw that fellow sitting across the ring." He pointed to Chip. "I escaped when he wasn't watching."  
  
"But you were seen at Luci's," Finch said.  
  
"I bribed a whore to lie for me. I think her name was uh..Carrie? No that's not it.uh" Worley tried to remember.  
  
"What about Sue, Marigold, Fancy, Barbie..?" Chip began. His face turned red, realizing that his vast knowledge of Luci's girls was better kept secret.  
  
"I think her name was Charity," said Worley.  
  
"I talked to Charity earlier," Finch confirmed.  
  
"Then you believe my story."  
  
"If Mrs. Griswell collaborates being in the big top with Muzzi," Stone replied.  
  
"I'll talk to Mrs. Griswell," Katie volunteered. "A woman would open up to another woman before she'd admit infidelity to a man."  
  
"I agree," said Stone. "I'll pick up Mr. Griswell at the same time so his presence can't intimidate her. Finch, you're sitting out of this one."  
  
Finch, whose head was pounding, didn't argue.  
  
When they got to the circus ground, Marshal Stone posted Chip at the back of Griswell's tent. Stone said loudly, "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Griswell." He and Katie waited. Slowly the tent door was drawn back and Mrs. Griswell stood there alone. Not even a curious dog came out to sniff, bark or growl.  
  
"My husband isn't home. I'm Alma Griswell. May I help you?" she said.  
  
"I'm Marshal Jared Stone and this is Miss Katie Owen. I'd like to talk to Mr. Griswell. Where can I find him?" Stone asked politely.  
  
"He's with the animals, down that way." She pointed to a large tent, twice the size of hers.  
  
"Thank you, ma'am," Stone said. "Katie, why don't you keep Mrs. Griswell company until I find her husband."  
  
"Please call me Alma. Do come in," Mrs. Griswell invited. "Would you like some coffee?"  
  
"Yes, thank you," Katie said as she looked for a place to sit not covered in animal hair. She gave up and sat in the rocking chair. Alma served the coffee and sat down. There was an awkward silence.  
  
Finally, Katie asked, "When is the baby due?"  
  
"In about a month," Alma responded.  
  
"Do you want a boy or a girl?" Katie attempted to spark a conversation.  
  
"I want a girl. Julian wants to name the baby after him if it's a boy. However, he won't be around and I'll do what I want. I detest the name, Julian!" Alma said vehemently.  
  
"He won't be around?" Katie was curious.  
  
"I asked for a divorce yesterday," she said.  
  
"I'm sorry. It's not going to be easy to raise a child on your own," Katie commented.  
  
Alma's eyes began to tear. "I was the last to see Marco alive. I should have stayed with him in the big top last night, even though I'm legally Julian's wife. You must think I'm an evil woman," she sobbed.  
  
"It's not my place to judge you. Is Marco the baby's father?" Katie asked gently.  
  
"Yes. Oh, how could I have messed up my life so much by marrying Julian? Being his fifth wife, I should have known better."  
  
Katie almost choked on her coffee. However, she had to appear sympathetic. "I'm so sorry I upset you."  
  
"There was no love in our marriage. Sex was a chore. He only wanted to have a child. He blamed childlessness on his other wives. That's why he divorced them all."  
  
"Was Mr. Griswell with you last night taking care of your animals?" Katie hoped she was asking at the right moment.  
  
"For a few minutes giving instructions to Mikey. I was asleep when he came home." Then Alma's eyes grew wide. "You don't think..I mean surely not ..Julian killed Marco!"  
  
"He's using you as his alibi," answered Katie.  
  
"I've got his alibi right here!" Alma started throwing items out of a trunk with tornadic force. Katie dodged back and forth. She froze when Alma hauled out a sawed off shot gun.  
  
"Settle down, Alma. Let Marshal Stone handle this." Katie attempted to say calmly.  
  
Alma ignored her and marched out of the tent. Katie trotted beside her, her mind running wildly. "Do I grab the gun? How do I warn Stone? Can I talk her out of this? Oh, God!"  
  
Alma, with Katie right behind her, burst into the exotic animal tent. Stone and Chip were sitting in chairs with their feet up on a table. "Where is the bastard?" Alma screamed. Startled, both men went over backwards.  
  
Chip started fumbling with his gun. Stone grabbed his wrist. "Shooting a pregnant woman is bad press, Chipper. Besides I don't think she wants to shoot us."  
  
Alma was shaking with rage. "Where?" she screamed again.  
  
"He's cuddling with the very big kitty cats," Stone said. Griswell was sitting in between two tigers in an enormous cage on wheels. "He ran in there as soon as he saw us. I'm waiting for him to come out because I'm sure as hell not going in."  
  
Griswell taunted his wife. "Go ahead and shoot. I hope you don't hit Lincoln or Jefferson."  
  
Alma was beyond caring. Suddenly, she aimed at Griswell and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The shotgun wasn't loaded. She rushed the cage. Then she clutched her stomach in pain. Katie helped her to a chair offered by the marshal.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked. His earlier queasy feeling returned when he realized the situation. "Aw, no. This is not happening here."  
  
"Find a wagon quick," Katie took charge. Chip ran out of the tent. Alma groaned loudly.  
  
"Can't she wait for the wagon outside? I'd be glad to go out but I have to watch Griswell." Stone was clearly unnerved as he paced the tent.  
  
"You've got to be kidding," Katie admonished.  
  
Chip had returned leading the miniature pony with the cart. "This is all I could find," he apologized.  
  
"No problem." Stone and Katie assisted Alma into the cart. "Run ahead and alert Doc Gates, Chipper." Alma moaned, her whole body shook with the effort. Stone turned pale, expecting the baby to pop out right then. "Go!" They took off.  
  
The marshal breathed a sigh of relief. Griswell didn't seem concerned that his wife was in labor. The animal trainer's hand went to an inside pocket of his coat. Stone automatically reacted by simultaneously drawing his gun.  
  
Griswell froze. "I need my medicine," he whined.  
  
"Let's see it. Slowly," Stone warned. Griswell brought out a bottle of Gude's Pepto-Mangan. "What is that stuff?"  
  
"It cures whatever ails you," Griswell took a huge swallow. "Croup, rabies, hemorrhoids, scurvy, chlorosis, Bright's disease, constipation and uh..when a man needs to be especially potent. Need some."  
  
"Marshal Stone doesn't need any help in that last area. Look how well he's aged," Finch interjected walking into the tent. "Unless, of course, that concoction can improve eyesight."  
  
"Shut up, Finch," Stone said through clenched teeth. "I told you to stay in town."  
  
"I'm better now. First, Chip raced past me. Then Katie with the pony and cart nearly ran over me. What's going on?"  
  
Mr. Griswell spoke drunkenly. "She's going to have Muzzi's baby. I believed the testimonials for Pepto-Mangan but it's a sham cure. I'm still shooting blanks."  
  
"So you killed Muzzi out of jealousy?" Finch was hoping for an easy confession.  
  
Griswell's words were a bit slurred but he managed to say, "I didn't kill him."  
  
"I guess you'll have to shoot the tigers," Finch said.  
  
"I thought I'd wait until the tigers got hungry and gnawed on his legs or something. He'll be screaming to come out then," Stone said instead.  
  
"I'm serious," said Finch.  
  
"Me, too," the marshal shot back.  
  
They sat down, planning to be as stubborn as Griswell. "Speaking of food, didn't you bring something to eat? I haven't eaten since this morning," Stone complained.  
  
"Sorry. I ate before I came out here," replied Finch. "I'll guard 'tiger bait' while you find some supper."  
  
Stone's exit from the tent was delayed by a flood of little dogs. One of the larger dogs was carrying a knife in his mouth. "The murder weapon!" Finch declared. And the chase was on.  
  
Finch tripped over a few mutts as he leapt out of his chair in pursuit. Stone hit his head as he dove under the table after the knife carrier. "Grab him," Stone yelled as he rubbed the lump on his head.  
  
"I'm trying," Finch shouted back.  
  
The detective thought he had the dog cornered but he only caught thin air. Stone lost his balance when the crafty animal changed direction suddenly. He fell against the cage bars. A tiger reached out, snagging Stone's shirt with his huge claws and pinned him in place. Stone cringed as he felt the beast's hot breath on his ear. He expected his shoulder to be shredded but Jefferson began licking his hair.  
  
"He likes you," observed Griswell. He finished the bottle of elixir.  
  
"Get him away," Stone said, "or I'll blow his ugly head off," as he pulled out his peacemaker.  
  
"Back boy, back. Good Jeffy," the trainer cajoled.  
  
Finch crawled on his hands and knees, cautiously toward the dog. The rascal growled; he didn't want to share his toy. Finch pounced, the dog yelped as he pried the knife from the doggy jaws.  
  
"Got it!" he crowed. He took the knife over to the lantern. "Griswell's fingerprints, without a doubt. I recognize them from the cup I borrowed from his tent."  
  
Stone looked perplexed. He didn't know Finch had lifted Griswell's prints for evidence. "When?" he wondered but remained silent.  
  
"This evidence means a conviction for sure," Finch said as he waved the knife in triumph.  
  
"Yeah, come on out Griswell. We have proof you killed Marco Muzzi." Stone played along.  
  
Griswell stumbled from the cage. The tigers began to follow before Stone quickly kicked the door shut with his boot.  
  
Soon both jail cells were occupied. The marshal happily ate delicious roast beef and potatoes. The signed and witnessed confession was on his desk. Finch enjoyed a cup of coffee.  
  
Katie arrived with news. "It's a girl. Mother and child are doing fine. What in the world happened to your hair, Marshal? It's sticking straight up."  
  
"A tiger is a man's best friend," joked Finch.  
  
"Save the comedy routine for your circus act. I hear there are a few openings." Stone said putting on his hat to cover the unruly hair.  
  
Katie noticed Griswell asleep in the cell. Worley was blissfully snoring. "Did Griswell confess?"  
  
"Written statement right here on my desk," Stone said. "But I do have a question for you, Detective." He glanced at the two criminals, ensuring they remained in intoxicated slumber. "How did you ever identify Griswell's prints on the knife just by looking? It doesn't seem quite scientific."  
  
"I didn't," answered Finch, "and I didn't have his fingerprints on a cup for reference either. Furthermore, the knife was clean from the dog's slobbering."  
  
"You lied?" Stone said.  
  
"Yes, but Griswell didn't know that." Finch smiled smugly.  
  
The office door opened and the bearded lady entered. She struck a sultry pose next to Marshal Stone's desk.  
  
"The night's still young, hon. Let's do the town," she purred.  
  
The office emptied of people as fast as a miner could shout, "Fire in the hole!"  
  
"I'd love to, Miss Penelope," Stone managed to say gracefully, "but I have so much paperwork to finish. I spent all day solving a murder, as you know. The paperwork piled up. Maybe another time." He tried to sound disappointed.  
  
"The circus is leaving tomorrow," she pouted.  
  
"Duty first," Stone championed.  
  
The bearded lady blew him a kiss on her way out.  
  
"Ah, paperwork," he thought, "always there when you need it."  
  
THE END 


End file.
